22. IT'S ALL ABOUT DOING IT

“Race. That’s what it’s called. Otherwise it’s better to stay home.” - Max on his battle with Charles in Austria 2019
“[Max] had an attempt in the same corner the lap before, he had left me space, on the second attempt he didn’t seem sporting to me. (...) From the car it seemed unfair but now I have to see the images from outside.” - Charles on his fight with Max in Austria 2019

/Max/

“His mouth twists with such bitterness and disgust that for a moment I think he’s going to throw up.
Fuck, how expressive Charles is when it comes to me!
I often watch him, even if I don’t do it on purpose, and I notice that when he smiles he always has the same kind of dull or circumstantial smile. Sometimes he seems handsome and radiant, he’s almost convincing, but his eyes always have that sad light and when he thinks he’s not being noticed, when maybe he isolates himself, he has openly dark and melancholic expressions.
These are just things that I find myself noticing by chance. However, apart from when he’s isolated when he’s always serious and thoughtful or when he tries to smile, for the rest his face remains very calm and mono-expressive, he struggles to show particular emotions. He gives the impression of being a calm and shy person, but I know him well and I know that’s not the case, in reality.
Anyway, when the gentleman approaches me, even if it doesn't happen often, has no control over his face and always shows bitter, sour or hateful expressions and makes it very clear what he thinks.
Except before. On the track, just after qualifying, when we had that childish, amused exchange, he was happy, I could see in his eyes even if they had the usual light off at the bottom, but he was smiling, he was excited and happy. He made that joke that I wasn't expecting and I just wanted that moment to last longer.
An electric shock went through me, just like that time in Singapore.
I think he was excited and lost control, thus letting out for a moment that part of himself that somehow, even if not rationally, likes me; in that exact moment, you could see that deep instinct of his that always suffocates because he hates me too much and rationally he absolutely doesn't want me to like him.
But if he doesn't want to, let him fuck himself with his hand, since he still doesn't have the courage with Pierre!
Repressed as fuck! Let's see how much you'll keep going like this!
For a moment I thought about giving him the ride and seeing if I could trigger what had started earlier on the track, that desire, that impulse, that excitement on both of our parts.
We were happy, fucking happy to be there together, him in front and me directly behind his cute virgin ass.
It could be fun, but let him stay where he wants, let him do whatever the hell he wants. Let him jerk off, go away with my secret and super hidden erotic dream.
Damn, those two together aren’t good. They’re the only two I have fantasized about since I've been with Daniel. I would really like to know why they’ve to torture me like this. Damn bastards!
Well, it's no one's fault, actually the defective one is me. I like challenges, but I've always known that.
One is untouchable because yes, Lewis always gives you that idea; moreover Daniel claims he’s with Seb, but since he has too much imagination and I think he sometimes throws too many parties, I never really pay attention to him.
The other one is Charles and he hates me, so even if maybe at certain moments I’m attracted to him, he’s still too rational because mostly he pushes me away. But they’re challenges. Charles more. I wouldn't dare on Lewis.
But Charles could be an interesting challenge: instigate him until he loses his famous legendary control, who knows if I’ll ever be able to take the broom that he has stuck in his ass?
While I think about it, I speed up by texting Daniel saying that I’m coming and to order me the dinner that we’ll eat while we fuck.
He sends me a smiley face, but he doesn't send me a naked selfie like he usually does to tell me that he’s waiting for me ready.
I think it’ll be another one of those times that it'll be difficult to have an orgasm.
Damn, but how did we end up like this?
Thinking about it I go even faster knowing that even if the police stop me at most they’ll ask me for an autograph. Unfortunately I arrive too early at the hotel since it wasn't really far away and frustrated I sigh rolling my eyes as if what’s about to happen had already happened, what practically always happens now.

After endless minutes and various positions, I curse heavily in Dutch and get out of bed giving up, leaving Daniel in the lurch, who sighs, shaking his head and throwing himself down.
I enter the bathroom, slamming the door. Not angry with him, more with myself.
- Come on Max, maybe you're too busy with tomorrow's race... don't think about it, it happens.
He tells me from outside the door, trying to reassure me for yet another misfire.
I turn on the cold water of the shower and head for the sink angrily hitting the edge.
For me it's like this, but for you what's the excuse? It didn't even get straightened out properly for you, not just me!
We were so limp that I was about to open a porno on my phone, but I was afraid I'd end up opening some photos of Charles and Lewis without realizing it.
I was excited, damn it! I was horny as hell, before, that if we were in a better situation I would try it with Charles again. If I didn't do it, it's only because we were always with someone around.
Damn.
And yet now that I've arrived here I've come off and it was almost a duty. I usually do it like this.
I fuck with Daniel. Before the mere thought of it excited me, maybe I was pissed off about the thousand things wrong in my life, but then all I needed was to be with him and I would get straight up. Then I started using him as an alternative to fantasies about the two majesties, but it worked. It worked well.
I was horny for them, especially Charles, and I threw myself at him and it was great.
I step under the cold water and find relief instead of shock.
This isn’t normal. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
It wasn’t supposed to get this bad.
When did I stop getting horny?
And it’s not just me anyway. If it was just me, all I had to do was get fucked, he’d be satisfied and we’d move on. But he can’t come either.
I turn off the faucet after my quick shower and stand still here. The drops fall at my feet, into the puddle that’s running down the drain. The ones on my body run tickling me, some of them coming off my chin and hair.
My eyes fixed on the tiles that line one side of the box, it’s like I’m going through the wall to the next room that could very well be Charles’s, for all I know. But I don’t really know.
I just fantasize like this sometimes, and it gets hard.
I look down at myself. It would work if I persisted with this fantasy, but then at the idea of ​​going beyond Daniel I'm sure it would end there.
It's not that I feel bad with him, I always feel great. We laugh together, we joke a lot and we talk about everything.
He really is the person I feel best with. But sexually there is nothing left, there is not what there was. I don't know why.
It just happened that way. Since there was never any romantic feeling, the thing didn't evolve in that direction and after the initial passion, once the habit took over, the desire wasn't enough. In fact, it vanished.
I think he feels this. I don't know if he feels the same, maybe he does, or maybe he just feels that I'm different, that I've flattened out sexually. He knows that I no longer feel what I felt before.
- He feels that I'm about to leave him. How can you fuck if you know that your boyfriend is going to leave you? It's absurd to drag me along like this.
I whisper softly as if by saying it out loud I might find the courage to tell him.
I turn around and hope he’s there listening, but the bathroom is empty, he’s stayed in the other room. He didn’t try to join me in the shower like he always did.
I sigh and shake my head.
He knows full well that it’s over, but I don’t think he has the courage to say it and take that step.
I’ll have to find the balls to do it.
I wrap a towel around my waist, shake my head, shaking my short hair that’s getting messy, and go back to the room as I am.
Daniel is lying on his side on the bed, lazily searching for something to watch on Netflix with the remote, his expression dull, unhappy. When I open the door he shifts his eyes to me and breaks into a smile that seems very convincing. He’s really good, much better than Charles. He should take lessons from him on how to confuse the others.
But I think the sadness in the depths of Charles's eyes comes from his grief.
I sigh giving up, I throw myself on the bed like an elephant, I get right next to him and I linger kissing him, he continues to smile and then push my cold, dripping head away and in response I purposely shake it towards him, we end up pushing each other and playing pranks. We laugh as always and I go back to being fine with him without saying anything about the usual problem, which for me is huge since it's always sex that moves me, since I entered this world of adults, so to speak.
But that's all, in the end.
I'm fine with him because we're just friends.
But how long do I think I can go on like this, I who am as direct as a warplane?

The truth will come out very soon, because I know myself. I'm terrible at keeping my secrets. I'm very good at keeping other people's secrets, I’m silent as a tomb, but if it's about not expressing something I think or feel it's impossible.
So from the moment I clearly realize that it's over with Daniel and that I just have to find a way to leave him, for me it's a sort of torture and I'm nervous, so nervous and hallucinated that as soon as I see Charles before the race, in the truck of the drivers' parade, I can barely keep from headbutting him. It's not really his fault, but indirectly it is.
Because he stands there splendidly and talks falsely cheerfully with the people around him, including me by chance, but I know very well that if he could he would throw me off the truck. He talks to me, seems to smile and is even kind because that's how he does, he has to be normal, talk to everyone without being rude. He's the one who’s always correct, with a ready joke because that's how normal people do it.
But I know he makes an effort. He forces the emotions he expresses. Almost all of them and almost always.
The only thing he doesn't force is the annoyance he releases as soon as no one notices him or maybe when he's not around people. Especially the one towards me.
But it's not just that, because in those cases, every now and then, he also starts feeling something else, towards me.
But I'm fed up with you. I'm not saying that you ruined my relationship with Daniel, but since you indirectly got involved everything went to hell. We had something beautiful and we were happy, now I'm going to have to hurt him and it's not Charles' fault, I really know, but I need to take it out on someone and since today we happen to be racing close together for the top positions, I'm going to vent by overtaking you and teaching you a good lesson.
You've thought yourself a better driver than me since you were born and you're really convinced that I'm terrible, compared to you. But somehow I always manage to get through it. Because it doesn't matter how you do it, it just matters doing it.

I have to say that it's definitely the best way to fight the nerves and the anger and this shit that I have inside.
I'm not just talking about winning a race, but doing it this way. Beating His Majesty Charles.
I was damn good, no matter how it went, I know they're investigating the move with which I gently accompanied him off the track while we were overtaking each other, but if they penalize me, screw them! It wasn't a terrible move to penalize!
This is F1, for fuck's sake, we're racing at ridiculous speeds on non-go-kart tracks!
Just let us race!
It was fucking satisfying though overtaking him all those times and beating him, and I have to say it was the best race I've ever done in F1 so far. If I had to pick one, it would be this one.
Without a doubt.
Not just for the win, but for how I fought him. It was damn hard to beat him, he's amazing, he's improved a lot since we raced as kids, but I know how to get the better of him one way or another.
I can feel his gaze killing me and piercing me as I'm talking to the interviewer on the track and of course he didn't shake my hand, he just ignored me like I didn't exist.
For a moment I forgot what the hell I was supposed to say, I could actually feel him staring at me and when I finished speaking and turned straight to him I saw his blades.
I don't think he's ever looked at me like that, not even in the worst karting races.
This one burns him, I know him, and he'll keep it in his memory.
But dear Charles, I really needed this.
Now I feel better, you don't know how much.
Fuck, I deserved it.
If they take away my victory by sanctioning me I'll do a fucking massacre!
Let them come and race in our place! It can't always be done cleanly, only Lewis can, but it's not like many are born like him.
In the end results count and today's puts me at the top of the grid, on the first place podium, in front of this pissed off prince.
I'm fine, I'm fucking fine, here. Yes, fuck!”

/Charles/

“I'm going to kill him now.
Because if I don't, he'll continue to ruin my F1 races like he did in Go-Karts.
But I knew it. He's grown up a damn! He's still an incompetent like he was when he was little!
Everyone is good at winning like he does! He goes straight ahead, running over others as if they didn't exist, he accompanies them off because the track is his! Everyone is good at winning like this!
Run clean and correct, damn it, let's see if you win again!
You haven't grown up! You had improved, maybe, but you haven't really changed. You're still the same old dickhead!
He doesn't know how to drive, his father raised an asshole who only thinks about winning without considering that he's not alone on the track. The real victory is when you race against others, because if you race against no one, that's not winning. That's just racing and that's different!
But he doesn't know how to race with others, he only knows how to run fast!
I'd like to tell him so many things until I lose my voice, he's there happy talking to the interviewers about his race, commenting that he doesn't think he made a mistake in the move that is being investigated with me, that these are racing things that happen and he's convinced he did a great performance.
Of course, you think you didn't make a mistake because you're an incompetent who doesn't even know what's allowed and what's not! Your level is really low!

Afterwards on the podium it's even worse because he happily celebrates what is actually my fucking first position.
Today, the victory was mine.
Fucking mine!
It's been a long time since I felt this angry. It's probably worse because it's him, a repeat offender who's been doing this since he got on go-karts and has never stopped.
Not only did he steal a victory from me, my first victory in F1 and in Ferrari, but he also dared to put himself first by cheating.
That maneuver was against the rules, last time Seb was punished for an identical one on Lewis! If there weren't a shitty rule I wouldn't complain, if these are races where everything is allowed, I'll adapt, but now that shitty rule exists and it must be respected!
But I have to keep quiet, I can't tell him what I think. I keep my mouth shut, while the nerves build inside me.
I'd like to say and do so many things, but I literally bite my tongue and keep quiet.
I keep quiet and ignore him the whole time, I don't even look at him by mistake, I don't interact in any way. Fuck you piece of asshole. Fuck you really.
I wonder if my face is as controlled and cold as I hope it’s or if I've, as always with him, lost control and am showing all the hatred I have?

It’s not yet clear.
I’m in the race commission office with Mattia Binotto to explain my version of events because the maneuver in question is under investigation, so despite the award ceremonies and all his damned celebrations, they could give me the victory as it would be right. After us Max and Horner enter, I give a friendly nod to the Red Bull Team Principal while completely ignoring Max. I don't even give him a murderous look. For me at this moment he doesn’t exist.
After talking, understanding that it would take a while, we go to our Motorhome to prepare to leave, waiting for them to call us back for the final verdict.
It's absurd that last time with Seb and Lewis for an identical move they immediately penalized Seb by taking away the victory, they didn't even have to meet, they decided before the race ended, while today they even have to think about it in a post-race meeting.
Time drags on too much and I'm not deluded, I know that if they have to take so long it means I'll get fucked, I know that's how it is.
Last time in Canada Seb acted crazy, pissed off because they can't penalize every damned race move during battles with other drivers, but he got nothing. I would also agree, but we have to be consistent and fair, that's what I say.
Now we're in the same situation, but with roles reversed and they should agree with us, last time they gave Lewis the victory.
We're now getting to the half hour mark. Normally they don't take that long to decide, Mattia is angry because like me he knows that given how long they take to decide it's a bad sign.
It's going to go badly, I can feel it.
It's absurd. The rules exist and even if I don't agree with all parts of them and I think like Seb they're too rigid, there should be no doubts when it comes to applying them.
But I can't say anything, I can't do anything. Because in these cases if you mess up it's worse and you don't get anything, I saw it in Canada; and anyway I'm not a child.
You don't mess up, you don't insult, you don't break everything like Seb did or like Max would do.
They’re similar in some things, even if they’re different in others.
I know how to behave, I know what I can say and what I can do and I'm here now ready to leave, waiting for a shitty verdict that I know what it’ll be.
How should I take it?
Oh, if I were Max I would make a big deal, but I would be childish. Shitty things happen, you have to accept them. I've accepted so many already, in my young life, I know well how to do it.
The more minutes pass, the more defeated I feel.
By now practically everyone has gone. Mattia and I, who will be leaving together, look nervously at the time, there is a timetable to respect because we don't take private flights and with us there’re others who are going to Monte Carlo on the same flight agreed with Ferrari. We’re slowing down everyone who’s already waiting for us at the airport. In agreement with Mattia we decide to leave knowing that the long wait in these cases has only one meaning, it’s also a way of sending a message, according to him. That we don’t share and don’t accept the sentence, but right at this moment we’re called for the phantom verdict. It's about time! Half an hour? Really? Isn't that too much for a decision made in 3 minutes last time?
At this point Mattia and I decide to go and hear the sentence in person, even though we know what it is.
Entering we meet Max and Horner, also now in civilian clothes ready to leave.
Usual nod to Horner, usual indifference to Max who at least has the decency to do the same with me. If he greeted me I spat in his eye even if it's not my style. I remain with my cold gaze fixed in front of me, I immediately point it at the commission, a group of people sitting at a table with a screen from which they will have seen and reviewed the incriminating images.
Straight, stiff, chin high, gaze fixed on theirs. Breathing slowly, hands behind my back, proud, expectant look, facial muscles hard.
I don't know what Max is doing, or what he looks like. If he's cocky or worried, or if he's looking at me. I don't give a shit. I avoided looking at him the whole time: seeing him happy with his race and his victory irritated me too much, before; I was about to lose control so I decided to avoid him.
Damn asshole.
As Mattia and I imagined, the commission leaves the positions unchanged and doesn’t penalize, explaining that after having carefully examined the images they didn’t find greater guilt of one of the two drivers and they evaluate the situation as a racing contact, therefore they decided not to proceed with any sanctions.
In other words, following the events in Canada they decided to accommodate Ferrari's requests to give drivers more freedom to race against each other, since the exact same contact between Seb and Lewis was instead punished on the spot.
Fuck them.
From today they decide to give drivers more freedom, uh? Just when you can penalize Ferrari again. What a coincidence!
Mattia says something that I honestly don't register, my brain switches off. I, livid, remain silent as a statue without saying a single word.
I continue to stare at them as if to pierce them, but I don't move a muscle, I don't breathe, I don't do or say anything.
I don't know with what strength I can do it since I would like to scream and insult everyone. They stole my first fucking victory in F1.
Max stole it from me, as always by competing unfairly. If he beats me it's only thanks to this.
But you'll see, my dear rival, that I can give you my damn lesson too. If you don't understand my language, you'll understand yours. Because I remember well how you reason, how to put into your hard fucking head the notions that you refuse to learn, that the track is not only yours.
I can do it too, you know.
Race like you.
Well, they want to give the drivers more freedom? Perfect.
As long as it's the same for everyone and above all that they always use the same yardstick, not just when it's convenient. I'll know how to take advantage of it.
I'll talk to you in the only language you know, the one you speak, the brutal, overbearing and unfair one.
So you'll see if you'll like having the race to shit because the driver you're racing against is unfair and throws you out. You'll see if it goes well for you or if you'll understand it once and for all.
You can be an asshole on the track with anyone, damn it, but not with me.
Not with me.

I repeat the concept as soon as I'm outside when some journalist intercepts me, I repeat what I thought while in there I was fucking commendable. I didn't say anything, I greeted the commission because I'm a kind person who knows his place and I ignored Max who no longer existed for me.
I limit myself to saying a few simple things to the journalists, showing myself to be superior. I'm not a capricious child who digs his heels in and complains.
- As long as they use the same yardstick for everyone from now on, I'll know how to behave.
I'm cryptic and very correct even in speaking after the disappointment. I would be justified in saying that I don't think it's right and that I feel robbed of my victory, but I show that I'm an adult, something that no one else in my place would have done. Maybe only Lewis, but he's English, it's normal.
I hear Max not far away say with his typical arrogance something about the fact that it's called races, otherwise you have to stay home.
Oh, I agree, but it must be the same race for everyone.
I'll remind you of it at the next GP, dear Max.
You'll see if I don't make it clear.

As soon as we're on our way to the airport with good old Joris who had gone to pick up our things at the hotel to hurry up, I immediately receive a call from Seb. When I see his name on the display I'm surprised, but obviously I answer.
His voice is as always kind and he already knows everything.
- I heard. - he begins. I press my lips together, stifling my real state of mind.
- Yeah... - I just act a little more dejected than I wanted to appear. - It's absurd that last time they penalized you for this and now, by chance, they decide to give the drivers more freedom...
I repeat with irony what they explained in the office and what we then talked about between us, I end up talking more than I expected myself, but I think I always keep myself rather calm.
- Well, if they really don't punish that kind of contact anymore, it's an important achievement. - I know Seb really cared about this goal, his thought doesn't surprise me and it doesn't hurt me either.
- But we'll see if they really do it. - I reply bitterly. We all know how certain things go, even though I've just arrived in F1, I understand that it's much more complicated than the other lower Formulas.
- They've set a precedent. It doesn't matter if they think they're doing it only now. Once you create a precedent you force yourself to act the same way in equal situations, you can appeal.
Seb is right and as it makes me think I understand that I really have a great opportunity in the next race. An opportunity that I have to create, but that I’ll take with tooth and nail.
I’ll return his move and take a great revenge to make him understand how annoying it’s to be treated like this on the track.
Being overtaken in a correct and clean way is one thing, you accept it, you have no choice. You put it away, in short. He’s superior to you, patience, you’ll do better.
But in this dirty way he’s unbearable, even if the rules are less strict and certain things are allowed. He’s still someone who pushes you off the track while you’re overtaking each other and all because he doesn't know how to drive well. Because that's what it is.
The track is the track, overtaking must happen on the inside. In short, things are done in a certain way, not as if you were driving a tractor!
But Seb is right, they’ve created an important precedent and we can hope that from the next GP there will be more freedom in certain moments.
I’ll take it anyway if only to put an important limit on Max. He must understand that he cannot do certain things with me.

I rationalize everything very easily and it’s one of my always good qualities, but as I go home I’ve the feeling of having swallowed things that I shouldn't have, things that will hurt me, in some way. Not immediately, but sooner or later, if I continue like this, I’ll feel it.
Because what happened to me is not right and it shouldn't have gone this way and I was right to get angry and insult everyone, but I didn't do it because I thought I shouldn't and now I think I need it and I'm eager for the next GP where I'll get my revenge.
It's not just the issue with Max that is eating me up. It's that again I did what I thought was right to do, what I thought was correct. I heard my father's voice telling me to behave, not to be a child and to accept the bad things as well as the good ones.
So I did it, but inside I was screaming and I didn't want to accept it so calmly.
I just wanted to scream, damn it, but I didn't and I don't know how long I can continue like this doing what I have to.
Smile because I know I have to smile, be kind and sociable because I know I have to be, shut up and swallow because yes. I don't know how much the fuck I can go on like this.
I turn up the volume of the music coming out of the headphones, I try to turn off my brain and forget everything, but the anger is always there. The burning, it's always there.”

NOTES: that famous race (Austria 2019) goes exactly as I describe it, I wanted to insert it and manipulate things to enrich and romanticize them. In the first years in F1 Charles tended to always have a 'politically correct' expression in general, very calm, not very involved and even when he laughed he always had a hint of melancholy, but in some cases with Max he would make certain very lively and spontaneous expressions, in these photos you can see a lot of what he felt and what he thought. Later he declared that at the beginning they couldn't separate the drivers from the people, but then they learned to do it and that's when their relationship improved, but at the beginning they didn't like each other. But I, obviously, always have my version of the facts. This is one of the first chapters, perhaps, that the POVs are shared, but actually I made mostly be like this in the rest of the fic. In reality the relationship between Max and Daniel has never deteriorated, but clearly for reasons of script I had to write it, even if in the fic it’s something that only happens in their private life and never in public. See you next time. Kisses Akane